


futile devices

by rinpanna



Series: futile devices [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff, Hand Kink, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Kageyama is gray ace, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Porn With Plot, Third Year KageHina, an insider look into mr shouyous dramatic repressed thoughts, can you guess which one it is, he is sexually and emotionally frustrated and he deals with exactly One of those problems, stares pointedly at the rating, the porn is mostly angst free tho dw, v important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27473020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinpanna/pseuds/rinpanna
Summary: A lot's been tangling up and around in his head recently. And when he dares to pull at a single weed—just trying to get astartat deconstructing the damn thing—the whole garden seems to follow; the roses tear into his skin with their thorns, the vines wrap around his throat like snakes. It's like how you can't just check outoneworm: it's the whole can or bust.He doesn't know where he's going with these metaphors.In which Shouyou battles with his thoughts, Kageyama confesses his fears, and things end up alright (at least, for now).
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Series: futile devices [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2199786
Comments: 22
Kudos: 176





	futile devices

**Author's Note:**

> Title from ["futile devices"](https://open.spotify.com/album/5U7GN7wM8nZKYeeOoYhPjC) by Sufjan Stevens. The lyric _"words are futile devices"_ varies quite differently in the context of the song vs this fic, but the rest of the album—the crunchy electronic synths, the heavily distorted vocals—is how I imagine Hinata's brain feels in the rare moments he gets lost in his thoughts
> 
> Special thanks to [Em](https://www.twitter.com/Emlee_J) for offering some advice wrt hinata's character voice!! And to all the kghn bb writing peeps who encouraged me during sprints :} (if any of u are here and wondering, yes, this is "hjo" ;) kudos to anyone who decodes the acronym)
> 
> Thanks for clicking, and please enjoy!

Shouyou locks the doors to the empty gym, the soft moonlight aiding his movements; his fingers shake as he pulls the key out of the socket. He twists to hook them on the outside of his satchel, but his hand jerks sideways, the clasp snapping around empty air. Huffing out a breath, he glares at the hazy cloud that appears before him. Stupid December weather. 

After two more failed attempts, the key finally hooks in place. Pivoting around, he glares into the empty parking lot and pulls on his gloves—his fingers singing praises upon being enveloped in the wool. He rubs his hands together as he walks towards the bike racks. 

In the silent yard, Shouyou can hear his sneakers scuff against the dirt, limbs heavy with exhaustion.

No longer practicing his jump serves, the buzz in his muscles is yielding to an ache. Along with it, the curtain of adrenaline is slowly peeling back to reveal its nightly horror: his own thoughts.

A lot's been tangling up and around in his head recently. And when he dares to pull at a single weed—just trying to get a _start_ at deconstructing the damn thing—the whole garden seems to follow; the roses tear into his skin with their thorns, the vines wrap around his throat like snakes. It's like how you can't just check out _one_ worm: it's the whole can or bust.

He doesn't know where he's going with these metaphors.

On a normal day, he can take his feelings, stuff them in a box, and pitch them overboard into oblivion. But a couple of times a year, the thoughts refuse to be caught and trapped. They run wildly through his mind until he either A.) addresses them or B.) vehemently ignores them for many days straight until they go away. For once, he kinda wants to take the earlier option—at least, for one of his problems. But his brain has decided that he can't have a single thought (not one!) without feeling like he's on the verge of a breakdown.

It feels great.

Shouyou shakes his head as his fingers fiddle with the bike lock. He knows he's being melodramatic, but he can't help it. He's probably (definitely) particularly crabby right now thanks to a stupid, missing someone.

As usual at practice today, he felt that insurmountable guilt while playing with their second year setter. His tosses aren't bad—not by a long shot—but the _spark_ of the slap of the ball against his palm isn't the same. Which makes _no_ sense, because, by virtue, all tosses are good tosses; any set Shouyou can hit and score on gets his mind buzzing, his heart pumping.

But there's something to be said about two and a half years of connection, of chemistry. No words, no signals, no glances—Shouyou just _thinks_ and knows that Kageyama can follow (even if he doesn't always listen). Normally, if Shouyou’s only practicing for a day or two with the second year, his stupid, insolent thoughts are easy to sweep under the rug: out of sight, out of mind. But it's been almost a week of spiking balls that don't feel like hitting the sun, and the vapidness has been adding up.

All because Kageyama is in Tokyo for his third and final year of Youth Camp. 

All because he’s left Shouyou behind once more.

Shouyou sighs as he approaches a steep hill, the spokes of his tires clicking and rattling under the rough concrete. He shifts down a gear, and the chain stutters a beat before snapping into place. Not even the stinging in his legs as he climbs up, up, up, can distract him from his whirring thoughts.

As much as he pushes it down each year, Kageyama's infuriatingly quick climb to the top makes Shouyou's blood roil. He knows that it wasn’t as quick as it seems, really—Kageyama has been playing volleyball since he could breathe. But that doesn't change the fact that he's been reaching at Kageyama's back for over three years now, and that the margin between them has only narrowed by a step, maybe two.

Shouyou _knows_ he’s made progress since middle school—their third year of Nationals just beyond the horizon, with him on the starting roster. And Brazil is _happening_ , though he still needs to get his Visa approved. He's on the right path. But Kageyama had blazed past his starting point before they even met. 

Shouyou sucks in a breath, moving up a gear. The greater resistance causes his thighs to burn even greater.

And then to top it all off: off-the-court life hit him where it hurts the most—right in the nuts. The realization that Shouyou _liked_ Kageyama about three months ago struck him like a bolt of lightning, temporarily shutting down all his senses before they returned magnified by ten thousand watts. (Is that a lot of electricity? Shouyou doesn't know, but it's a big number, so probably.)

Over the years, Shouyou's gotten really, really good at only selectively attending to things (like volleyball practice!) while pushing trivial stuff like _emotions_ to the background. Clammy hands didn’t help him spike better, and a rapid heartbeat didn’t help him jump higher, after all. But since he's around Kageyama not only daily but _hourly_ —when “Kageyama” and “volleyball” are practically synonyms at this point—Shouyou couldn’t reign his feelings back in his usual manner. Instead, after a few weeks of them building up and crushing his soul bit by bit, he inadvertently confessed. The words tumbled out of his mouth without grace nor consent. He’s sure his own dumbfounded shock was mirrored by Kageyama’s expression.

He'd prefer to not think further about the embarrassing manner of their getting-together (R.I.P. that one volleyball and their bentos), but it happened—almost a month ago at this point. And, despite his volleyball-adjacent issues in regard to Kageyama, dating has been... not that different from how it was before. They still practice together after hours, still bicker and compete at every turn, but now Shouyou gets to _touch_ Kageyama more freely and wow. Wow wow wow wow wow. He still doesn't know how to handle this abundance of power. 

They both avoid PDA for obvious reasons, but when he and Kageyama are alone, Shouyou can't keep _anything_ off him. On the couch watching a movie: Shouyou's head on Kageyama's shoulder, their thighs pressed flushed. Among the back streets walking home from school: one hand on his handlebars, the other wrapped in Kageyama's. In the storage room, last to clean up practice for the day: Shouyou's lips on his lips, his chest on his chest. 

Well, there is one thing he's _forced_ himself to keep off Kageyama: his final frustration, just the nail in the coffin to his list of woes. He's always been in touch with _that_ aspect of his youth—his feelings towards cute people handled with a swift twist of his wrist and the towel at his bedside. But _God_ , that electricity metaphor applies especially to his sex drive.

To put it lightly: he's never been more horny in his life.

But every time they're making out and start approaching _that_ territory, Kageyama slowly but certainly begins laying off. His kisses lose their intensity, his hands stop their ministrations. Shouyou's tried to push back a few times—hands wandering lower, mouth pressing harder—but it's never gotten Kageyama to reciprocate, so he always stops. He's not so horny as to ignore the importance of consent.

Shouyou has literally _felt_ Kageyama hard in his shorts, though; why won't he let Shouyou _do_ something about it? His face twists into a pout. Is it because he's ugly? Shouyou shakes his head—after some incessant persuasion last week, Kageyama admitted that he finds Shouyou attractive. (This was also apparent beforehand, but sometimes it’s nice to hear Kageyama be honest.) Does Shouyou’s very apparent neediness turn him off in some way? Or does he actually suck at kissing or something, so much so that Kageyama doesn’t want to deal with him any further? Shouyou’s head is going to burst from all this useless speculation. He just wants to have sex with his boyfriend who he’s very, very into in literally every way possible. 

But at least when Kageyama’s _here_ , Shouyou can still touch him in general—and really, the platonic touches are nearly enough. But while he’s away at Youth Camp, Shouyou’s utterly and completely deprived of one (1) Kageyama Tobio. It's been four whole days and nights since their lips last touched on Kageyama's doorstep—a Sunday evening “goodbye-for-now”—and Shouyou's hormonal brain is reeling from the loss.

So with school, volleyball, and life so entirely void of its usual Kageyama-ness, it's really no wonder that Shouyou's frustrated. Curse Kageyama—whose tosses have propelled Shouyou to fly amongst the clouds, when he’s already reached the sun, so far out of Shouyou’s reach. Curse Kageyama, his sexy boyfriend that's made it borderline impossible to keep it in his pants. 

He needs to breathe. He needs to be rational, to put things in perspective.

But, shit, sometimes that’s so much harder than it sounds.

Shouyou clenches his breaks hard as he veers into the driveway. The back wheel of his bike jumps up from the force, jerking Shouyou forward. The tire bounces a few times before settling back down with a final _thud_. It's only now that he's stopped that he realizes the harshness of his breath, the hollow feeling in his lungs. He fishes his phone from the side pocket of his satchel and turns on the screen, checking the clock. It's only been twenty two minutes since he left school. He sighs and tucks the phone away.

Stepping through the front door, he unravels his scarf and flings it to the side. It awkwardly settles over the coat rack, hanging limply from multiple rungs. He rids himself of all other winter gear before walking into the living room and flopping down into the couch. Face squished into the cushy fabric, Shouyou groans. He wants to take his brain and chuck it into the toilet—too many thoughts about petty, stupid things. Didn't Suga mention way back when that he likes to listen to podcasts on long walks as a way to shush his mind? Maybe Shouyou should look into something like that for his bike rides home. 

Shouyou snorts at the idea. When his thoughts are like this, it’s like trying to herd rabid sheep. The audio would ultimately be drowned out by the persistent buzz of his internal turmoil, he’s sure.

Shouyou turns his face to the side so that he can breathe again. He lays alone in the dark room for a couple more minutes—his brain stewing in that state where he's not really _thinking_ but still feels soggy and heavy and gross anyways. Like a mop left to air dry in the winter chill.

"Alright!" Shouyou suddenly declares into the empty house. He rolls off the couch and springs to his feet, then shakes out all of his limbs all at once. The movements help dispel the ickiness that has settled on his skin. That's enough wallowing for the day! And besides, it's dinner time! 

Natsu and his mom are on a trip to his grandparents' house for a long weekend, so Shouyou has to cook for himself for the next little bit. Ever since he began focusing more on his health in first year, he's been building up his cooking skills. Now, he has a solid repertoire of nutritious recipes he can cook with his eyes closed, as well as a handful of more complex ones. His mom was shocked by his sudden interest in how to operate a kitchen, but when she learned of his reasoning, she smiled proudly. 

"You're smart to think about such things now, Shoucchan," she said, patting his head. "Your body will thank you in the future." The corner of his lips curl up at the memory as he opens the fridge, on the hunt for the night's ingredients. 

Since his brain has betrayed him all evening, Shouyou decides to whip out a recipe that requires a lot of focus and coordination between multiple pans and pots and whatnot—the more he has to think of how to keep the house from burning down, the less his mind can fixate on Kageyama. He pulls out his favorite cutting knife and gets to work at chopping up the vegetables. Before he gets too into it, he shuffles back out into the hallway to grab his phone and turns on a random playlist. Some extra noise can't hurt, especially without Natsu around. 

Shouyou spends the next half hour flitting between the counters in the kitchen, chopping and stirring and taste testing all the way. The playlist he chose is full of old pop songs whose lyrics he memorized long ago, so he sings along when he's not too focused on his food.

When the meal is done, he moves to the living room and plops down on the couch. Clapping his hands together, he says a quick _thank you_ , and it's genuine, too; his spirits have been greatly lifted thanks to prepping the tasty meal to come.

Shouyou takes a bite and hums out a happy note. The flavors pop and sit on his tongue in a perfect balance. If volleyball wasn’t his ultimate career path, maybe he’d consider becoming a chef. But that’s not worth thinking about, because nothing could stray him from his current path. His long, arduous, unfair path. 

Shouyou jolts, then physically waves his hand next to his head, trying to dispel the thought. Lamenting his fate won’t change it. Impatience will ultimately hold him back. He learned these lessons years ago, but his brain sometimes sure does like to pretend like it hasn’t.

Huffing out a breath, he shoves another spoonful of food into his mouth. It rests like lead on his tongue, so he swallows quickly and takes another.

Bite by bite, the heaviness creeps back into his chest. The familiar weight greets him by name now when it shows up to the doors of his heart. And because it's become such a frequent, uninvited guest, Shouyou's gotten very good at ignoring it and its jeering words—earlier this evening a slip up and nothing more. Shouyou will feign ignorance until he feels bliss, so help him God. His foot begins to tap rapidly on the floor beneath him. The sounds echo off the walls of the empty house. Shouyou forces himself to still, curling his toes inward until they ache.

Stuffing a final bite of food into his mouth, Shouyou shoots to his feet and walks swiftly into the kitchen. He takes his time washing the dishes, swishing the sponge around the pots and pans in a methodical, practiced pattern. When he finally concedes that there's not a speck of food left on any of the cookware, he places them all on the drying rack. He crosses the kitchen and clicks on his phone. A few notifications flash on screen—a text from Tadashi, a Snapchat from Kouji—but he swipes them away. He’ll deal with them later.

Normally this time of night, Shouyou would be putting Natsu to bed. His mom takes care of her during the day after school, so it's really the least he can do to help out. Sometimes Natsu wants him to read her a bedtime story, and he's always happy to comply. He'd do anything for his baby sister, honestly.

Shouyou pads upstairs, selectively ignoring his satchel full of homework down the hall, and pulls open the door to her bedroom. Moonlight streams through the high window, illuminating the room in a soft, white light. His heart warms a bit at the familiar scene: the cream yellow walls, the comforter printed with various sun doodles, the framed portrait of them on her dresser—their matching grins on display for all. 

Nothing quite fills him with the same fond joy as when he sees Natsu’s smile. But tonight, it doesn’t seem to be doing the trick: the rush of delight through his veins quickly tamped down by the ache in his chest.

He steps back into the hallway and closes the door behind him.

As he walks to his room, he clicks on his phone again and deals with the unread notifications. A good call on his part, too, because Tadashi needed his input on practice things; since Kageyama's out for the week, Shouyou has become the proxy vice-captain (much to his delight and Tsukishima's chagrin). 

Slipping through the door, Shouyou snatches up the stray volleyball on the floor then flops onto his bed. A small sigh escapes him as he bumps the ball into the air with his fingertips. The ball rises and falls quickly, and Shouyou adjusts his hands' positioning and power as necessary. Soon, the ball's balance has equilibrated, glancing off his fingers in a perfectly coordinated rhythm. Up, down, up, down, up, down. 

Shouyou's eyes begin to lose focus as they acclimate to the ball’s patterns. His mind begins to wander—to tomorrow's lunch, to this weekend's practice, to what Kageyama is probably doing in Tokyo right now. 

His gaze sharpens, the blurred edges of reality snapping back to solid forms. Now is time to focus on the ball, nothing else. 

Shouyou continues the exercise, guiding the ball towards the edge of his bed until he's sitting up. He starts cycling through his Super Secret Ultra-lonely Passing Drill—standing fully before transitioning to a low squat. The ball moves with him, cleanly cutting through the air in high arcs, as he lays down on his back. He realizes that the drill isn't _really_ lonely—he has the ball, after all. Maybe he should rename it.

After what must be at least a hundred reps, he sends one final pass up before catching the ball, hands poised above his face. He exhales, his back sinking deeper into the carpet below. His breath collects on the ball, the small droplets of moisture glistening in the moonlight.

His arms fall to his sides, his hands loosely gripping the ball now atop his stomach. Even after working up a bit of a sweat, Shouyou feels like he's about to crawl out of his skin from all the energy humming through his veins, the half-thoughts buzzing through his mind. At this rate, he's gonna stand up to grab his _homework_ , goddammit. The air around him remains silent, ignorant to his suffering.

Wait... it's silent. _Completely_ silent. Because his mom and Natsu aren't home, and his dad's been away on a business trip for weeks. 

Which means he could totally jack off _right now_ with no inhibitions. Same for the rest of the weekend _._

Blood rushes to his face at the realization. He's home alone so infrequently that the thought didn't even cross his mind earlier. He’s so used to just stuffing his face into pillows or using the shower as a cover up.

But jacking off also—99.9% of the time—means thinking about Kageyama, which he does not want to do. A sting of guilt pierces and adds to the weight in his chest—it's not like Kageyama did anything _wrong_. While it _is_ fully his fault that he's gotten so damn good at volleyball, it's not his fault that Shouyou is sometimes plagued by petty thoughts. 

And Shouyou is happy, extremely happy, that Kageyama’s so good, because one day, Shouyou's gonna be even _better_ and beat him. But that day is somewhere off in the distant future, not even visible at Shouyou's current vantage point. 

Shouyou heaves a sigh. He was supposed to be done with circling back to these thoughts.

But to be fair, it's not like he can beat Kageyama while they're on the same team, except in terms of, like, baseline metrics such as highest vertical (which he _finally_ surpassed Kageyama in last week, heh). But, no, that's not their promise. That's not what he's working towards.

Shouyou groans, curling onto his side. Which will prevail: his pettiness or horniness? He blows a raspberry into the darkness. Without his thoughts even really _going_ in that direction yet, he can feel his blood flowing downwards, his body naturally enticed by the promise of an empty house. Shouyou squeezes his eyes shut, willing the feeling to pass. But on top of an empty house, he hasn't touched Kageyama in four days which is practically a _week_ , and he hasn't gotten off since Monday! God has been conspiring against him since Kageyama left for Tokyo for this very moment.

Rolling the volleyball to a corner of his room, Shouyou stands up to close and lock his door. (Force of habit, okay?) He rifles through his drawers for a towel and some lube, then throws the towel next to his pillow. Keeping the bottle in his hand, he climbs onto bed. By the time he's settled on his back, he can feel, as well as see, that he's already half hard in his shorts—the mere prospect of his dick being touched causing his skin to simmer. He glares at the ceiling, silently cursing his raging hormones.

Well, at least this makes it easy. He sucks in a final deep breath before sliding his hand down and hooking his thumb under the waistband of his shorts. Shouyou hikes up his hips before pulling down, the fabric sliding down his thighs. The cool air of the house permeates through his briefs and he shivers, his stomach swooping in anticipation. He yanks the rest of his shorts down his legs, his left foot catching on the leg hole in his haste. Letting out a groan, Shouyou flings his leg over the side of the bed and rapidly shakes his foot until the fabric slides free onto the floor. With that settled, he stares at the offender between his legs, still affronted that his body would betray him like this.

Shouyou trails a ghost of a touch over the head, sharply inhaling upon contact. Normally, he just lets his thoughts run wild, which ultimately ends up with some steamy fantasy involving Kageyama. But what if he actively tried to think about something else, someone who's not Karasuno's starting setter? Someone who isn't nearly two meters of pure muscle. Someone who doesn't have the most piercing blue eyes, the sharpest cheekbones, the softest lips. Shouyou begins to repress a moan before he remembers that no one's around; an embarrassing noise erupts from his throat, and a rush of heat rises to his cheeks.

Dropping his hand to fully cover the bulge, he presses down while grinding up, the pressure sending an exhilarating shock up his spine. Shouyou rolls onto his side and continues palming at himself over his briefs—adamantly _not_ thinking about what it would feel like if Kageyama were against him, if Kageyama's slender, perfectly kempt hands were squeezing around his dick instead. His eyes have closed without his permission, eyebrows knit tightly in focus. The fleeting thought that he's going to end up with a permanent furrow between his eyes like Kageyama crosses his mind; he bites his lip, repressing a smile. 

A few moments—most certainly not used thinking about Kageyama kissing him tenderly—later, his cock is straining against his briefs. Shouyou drops the bottle of lube he's been clutching to his chest and uses both hands to yank down his underwear, flinging the useless piece of fabric across the room. While he's at it, he crunches upwards and pulls his t-shirt over his head before flopping back down on the soft comforter. The air hits his chest in a rush, and his nipples harden at the sudden change in temperature. One of his hands travels back down to wrap lightly around the base of his dick; the other runs vertically across his chest, his pinky finger barely catching on his nipple before sliding up towards his neck.

Shouyou squeezes himself, and it feels like he's been sucker punched with how fast the air leaves his lungs. Before he can get too into it, he opens his eyes and spots the bottle of lube to his left; he picks it up and squirts a solid dollop onto his hand. (A lesson Shouyou learned early in life: there is no such thing as too much lube.) He rubs his palms together to warm up the liquid, then returns to his task.

Gripping the base, he twists his wrist around a bit, spreading the lube out evenly. His other hand runs along his jaw, fingertips ghosting over his skin. He sighs, eyes fluttering shut. His fingers then skim over his lower lip, and he actually _mewls_ , his chest heaving at the touch. Shouyou lays there for a few moments, unmoving, willing the burn of his skin to settle down, lest he come in thirty seconds. What an absent boyfriend and four days of no sexual release will do to a guy.

Once he's regained control of his breathing, Shouyou begins moving again, hand sliding slowly up his shaft. When his fingers run over his head, he shivers, the coil of heat winding a notch further in his lower belly. He returns his hand to his base and strokes himself this way again; this time, his other hand starts moving, too, fingers skimming down from his chin and onto his neck.

Kageyama really likes his neck. While Shouyou's lips are definitely his favorite, it's impossible to ignore how quickly he moves downwards, lips and teeth dragging over the pale skin in slow, tantalizing patterns. Even when they had no idea what making out really entailed, Shouyou remembers that Kageyama would press fumbling kisses along its length before he moved back up, their teeth inevitably clacking together on their next kiss. A few Google searches and a fair amount of practice later, they'd both learned what the other likes, as well as what they personally liked to give. Shouyou was a fingers person, Kageyama was a neck person. It's simply the way of life now.

The slow drag of his finger tips down the column of his neck causes Shouyou to shiver. He thinks about Kageyama doing this exact same gesture about a week ago, and he curses, his cock pulsing in his hand. His brain forces the hands to feel bonier, wider—the threads of a fantasy Kageyama forming in his mind without his permission. Shouyou's not mad—not if fantasy Kageyama feels this _good_ —and he already knew that there was little hope in his thoughts heading elsewhere.

His fate officially sealed, he rounds up his irritated thoughts and locks them in a box, shoving them to the back of his mind. No more Setter-yama. Only Sexy-yama. A smile curls at his lips at the thought of the real Kageyama ever trying to be sexy—he'd fail so miserably.

Shouyou rubs a thumb over his slit; his hips jerk off the bed as a cry leaves his lips. A hand trails down and runs lightly over his nipple. Even as he’s gasping for breath, he takes the bud between his fingers and rolls them slowly. Another shock travels down towards his groin, and Shouyou starts pumping himself again. 

_“So, you like it like this, huh,”_ Kageyama’s voice rings through his head. His words aren’t salacious, just considering. Shouyou cracks a smile at his own thoughts. Of course his brain would never _actually_ conjure a Sexy Kageyama—that’s much too out of character. He circles around his tip again, then travels lower to squeeze his balls. The new sensation sends a bolt of pleasure through his veins, and his head buzzes in anticipation.

Propping himself up on his elbow, his fingers move lower. He starts to draw circles on his taint, his touch ever so soft—

_“Can I finger you?”_

Shouyou groans at the unexpected request. Kageyama’s voice is once again curious rather than lustful. Why does he want to try anyways? They haven’t even jerked off together yet. 

Shouyou scowls. He acknowledges that talking to fantasy Kageyama means that he’s just having a conversation with himself, but his belligerence whenever Kageyama is involved is apparently not exclusive to reality.

 _“I’ve never tried, but I think I’ll be pretty good at it,”_ Kageyama answers, a cocky smirk flashing across his features. _“You've always liked my fingers, after all.”_

Shouyou moans, pressing harder against his taint. Unfortunately—infuriatingly—Kageyama is often sexy when he’s not trying. Shouyou has no doubt that this will transfer to their sex life (if it ever starts, that is), and the idea makes his head spin. 

He’s certainly thought more than once about what Kageyama would feel like inside of him. A lot of the time, though, he ends up thinking of the _opposite_ —what his dick would feel like being crushed around Kageyama’s tight walls. What Kageyama would sound like as Shouyou stroked him as he pounded into him from behind. In more romantic instances, Shouyou imagines him kissing Kageyama on the lips while they’re chest to chest, rubbing Kageyama’s dick into his stomach with each roll of his hips (it’s a fantasy, he can selectively disregard their height difference that makes this impossible in reality , thank you very much).

But, no—right now Kageyama’s fingers have the spotlight. And he really wants to know what they feel like. At the thought, Shouyou gasps out a breathy cry. 

His hand begins to creep back up his body, fingers lightly tracing around his balls, then up to the tip of his dick. The touch causes his hips to jerk up, but he resists chasing the pleasure—he has a plan, after all. 

He drags his hand up his stomach, the delicate touch tickling his abs. Growing impatient, Shouyou bypasses his chest, lifting his hand to cup his face. He runs his fingers down his jaw, pinky finger running across the column of his neck. When they reach his chin, Shouyou slides his pointer and index finger into his mouth. 

_“Shouyou, what are you—”_

He interrupts Kageyama, sucking on the tips of the digits. Heat zings down his arm and low into his belly. Fantasy Kageyama’s face is priceless: a mix of shock, skepticism, and desire. There’s an adorable flush on his cheeks, growing in intensity each second. Shouyou rolls his tongue around, coating the fingers in a hearty layer of saliva, then pushes them in deeper. Kageyama looks hesitant but intrigued; he at least lets Shouyou tug his wrist closer, until his fingers are fully enveloped by Shouyou’s mouth. 

God, Shouyou really wishes his hands were at least a bit bigger—Kageyama’s fingers would definitely hit the back of his throat in a way that would probably sting but also feel like... _gwaaah!_ But he’s stuck with his small self, so he can either keep whining over what he doesn’t have or make the best of what he’s got. He’s always done the latter with volleyball—why complain now? Shouyou curls his fingers down, pressing into his tongue.

 _“Dumbass, you’re going to choke if you pull them in any further,”_ Kageyama scolds, eyebrows pinched. 

“But, chu fheel sho good,” Shouyou says around his fingers. Kageyama’s eyes grow wide, and he quickly turns his head to the side to conceal his reaction. Shouyou giggles, eyes creasing at the edges. 

He pulls his fingers out to the second knuckle and sucks again. “Want dem insi’ me.”

Kageyama moans—the one moan Shouyou _has_ pulled out of him during their regular make outs filling his mind—and Shouyou can’t resist anymore; he grips his dick with his other hand, squeezing the base. He slides his hand up and down in a sloppy manner—too worked up to build a real rhythm—as he rolls his tongue around his fingers. Shouyou can feel the coil of heat in his gut growing tauter and tauter, threatening to snap. But no, he can’t let that happen—not yet. 

He wasn’t exaggerating when he said he wanted the fingers inside him.

Shouyou pries his hand off his dick and pats around the bed for the lube. He sucks harder on his fingers, slowly pulling them away from his mouth. They slide out with a pronounced _pop._ His other hand finds the bottle and grabs at it with excessive force; if the poor cap weren’t closed, he would’ve just squeezed all the lube onto his bed. Shouyou forces himself to take a deep breath in, using the breath out to release the tension in his limbs.

Shouyou’s played with his hole a few times, but the reality of his room being next to his little sister’s has prevented him from really exploring. It’s not his fault he’s feeling a bit overzealous. 

Sitting up, he squeezes a layer of lube onto his fingers, circling the bottle around his fingertips. Shouyou rubs his thumb over his other fingers, smearing the liquid so that it coats them evenly. Keeping the slick hand off the mattress, he flips onto his forearm and knees and presses his chest against the bed. 

Shouyou reaches back, his body trembling in anticipation. He squeezes his eyes shut as he represses the blush threatening to form on his cheeks. No embarrassment over assplay in the Hinata household, thank you.

His pointer finger skims his entrance, and he shivers at the cold touch. Shouyou lets his hand linger there, fingers moving in slow circles, as he adjusts to the feeling. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s not exactly pleasant either. He also definitely must look like a disaster right now—with his cheek squished into the pillow, his fingers in his butt, his ass high in the air. A wave of heat rushes to his face at the conjured sight. 

Okay, maybe a little embarrassment is inevitable. 

Shouyou shakes his head, cheek sinking deeper into his pillow. Focus, Shouyou.

He angles his wrist steeper, prodding against the ring of muscle, but the tip of his finger barely penetrates his entrance. Shouyou grunts at the resistance—just go in already! He’s too turned on right now to be patient.

 _“Just relax, dumbass!”_ Kageyama’s voice rings through his head. _“I’m not gonna, like, hurt you or anything.”_

“I know that!” Shouyou snaps back internally.

 _“Then breathe, idiot!”_

Shouyou begrudgingly listens, breathing in long and slow. He can feel the tension melt out of his shoulders and back on the exhale.

Almost unconsciously, Shouyou cocks his wrist a bit further. This time, his finger sinks in deeper with little resistance.

 _“Good,”_ Kageyama says gruffly. 

His dick throbs between his legs at the praise. He should probably touch that again soon, huh.

Stuffing his other arm awkwardly under his body, Shouyou wraps his hand around himself. The touch stokes the fire beneath his skin and he moans. He imagines the blush that would color Kageyama’s face if he ever heard that noise. His nose would crunch up in embarrassment as he grumbled, _“So lewd, Hinata-_ boke _.”_ Shouyou smiles, turning his head into the pillow. He is so stupidly fond for Kageyama and he hates it.

_Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep._

Shouyou’s eyes fly open, his body tensing at the sudden noise. With his finger still up his ass, it would’ve felt good if he weren’t absolutely mortified. A phone call? Now? Of all times? Shouyou’s eyes widen in terror. _What if it’s his mom?_

He rapidly pulls out of himself, already shuffling on his knees to grab the towel off his side table. Shouyou wipes his hands off as he scrambles to the end of his bed, not wanting the call to time out.

When he gets a proper look at the screen, he breathes in a sigh of relief. It’s just Kageyama. Wait, why is Kageyama calling him? Did he, like, sixth sense Shouyou’s horniness? 

Reality comes crashing down on Shouyou all at once. The thoughts he was able to suppress while touching himself start pounding on the lid of their lock box. Irritation pricks at his chest. So he has to talk to his boyfriend, who he is both pettily and sexually frustrated at, while extremely hard? Life is cruel.

Begrudgingly, Shouyou accepts the call and brings the phone up to his ear.

“Kageyama! Why are you calling me?” Shouyou says, trying to keep a level tone. 

But, of course, Kageyama calls his bullshit immediately. “Why do you sound so annoyed? You _told_ me to call you!”

Despite his irate words, Kageyama’s voice goes straight to Shouyou’s dick. Shouyou suppresses a groan and closes his eyes. This is gonna be a long phone call. Also, when did he tell Kageyama to call him? They, like, never talk on the phone.

“Yesterday, you texted me,” Kageyama supplies, reading his mind. His voice pitches high, with a distinct nasal quality. “‘Kageyama, call me tomorrow? I wanna hear your stupid voice. Please, my crops are dying. Capital T underscore underscore capital T.’”

Shouyou squawks in indignation. “I do _not_ sound like that!” While he doesn’t remember sending that text, at least it does seem like something he’d write. Sometimes before bed, Shouyou’s so wiped from the day that the last few minutes of his waking consciousness are completely wiped from his mind—like being drunk, but on exhaustion. How dare his fingers betray him at his most vulnerable! He glares down at the hand in his lap. Which then reminds him of his raging hard on. A blush rises in his cheeks.

“Sure,” Kageyama replies. The speaker crackles, as though he’s moving around.

“W-where you are you, right now?” Shouyou asks, pointedly closing his eyes. 

“The dorms,” Kageyama answers. “Getting ready for bed.”

Shouyou’s eye bug out—Kageyama’s talking to him _while in a room full of other people?_ The suffering never ends. “Aren’t you annoying your _temporary teammates_ by being on the phone?” 

“No, I have my own room. Third years have some kind of special privilege or whatever. I’m not complaining.”

Shouyou perks up at the news, head cocking to the side. “Oh?” He crawls back up the bed and lays down, cheek flopping atop his pillow. He slings his arm over his side, his fingers just skimming his dick. Shouyou lightly trails his fingers over himself, biting down on his lip to hold back a hiss. Is it a little weird to be touching yourself as your partner talks to you on the phone, blissfully ignorant? Probably. He’ll tell Kageyama soon, maybe. But after only a minute on call, Shouyou’s earlier irritation has faded, replaced by a bubbly feeling in his gut. He really has missed Kageyama. 

“Yeah,” Kageyama huffs, then falls silent. After a few seconds of nothing, Shouyou giggles.

“Chatty-yama tonight, aren’t you?”

“Shut it, dumbass,” Kageyama grumbles. The sound of rusty springs creak loudly through the speaker.

“Western style beds, too?” Shouyou notes. “Truly living up to your title as the King.”

Shouyou can somehow hear Kageyama roll his eyes through the phone; the image makes him chuckle. He wraps his fingers around his base in a light grip, still teasing.

“I’m literally going to hang up.”

Shouyou’s body jolts at the warning, hand squeezing his dick. “N-noooooooo, Kageyamaaaaa.” 

Kageyama lets out an exasperated breath. “Then talk to me, dumbass!” Shouyou hears a thud, as though Kageyama just flopped down on the mattress. “What’s...up.” His voice is so awkward and stilted that Shouyou has to bite back a laugh. God, Kageyama tries so hard, but he’s never quite there. It’s something Shouyou adores about him.

“I’m, um,” he glances down between his legs. Should he tell Kageyama? Would that make him uncomfortable? _Yeah, I was just thinking about you fingering me, and now I’m still touching myself even though we’re talking. How’s_ your _day been?_ Shouyou could probably say it with more tact. He still doesn’t know how Kageyama feels about this stuff, though! But he also doesn’t know how much longer he can wait to tell Kageyama about his sexual troubles within their otherwise pretty fantastic relationship. And talking about it over the phone would be a lot easier for both of them, probably.

The other end of the line crackles a few beats before Kageyama mimics, “ _‘Chatty-yama tonight, aren’t you?’_ ” Shouyou can hear the smirk in his voice.

Fuck it. Kageyama deserves his ire.

“I was just jacking off _and_ about to finger myself till you called, thank you very much!” Shouyou says, nose scrunching. Shouyou clacks his teeth together to stop himself from spitting out more details than necessary. Because he doesn’t _really_ want to provoke Kageyama. Just enough to get him squeamish. 

There’s a bunch of crackling on the other end—Shouyou hears a muted _fuck_ though the cacophony—before Kageyama says, voice straining, “ _Dumbass_ , how do you just _say_ shit like that out loud?”

Shouyou snorts, indignant. “You asked me what I was doing, so I answered.” A blush is creeping through his whole body now, flooding his face with warmth—and it’s not just a pleasant heat. His sexual frustrations from earlier have come knocking at his ribcage, desperate to be let into his heart. He rejects them, slamming the door shut, but they’ve already shoved their foot in the gap between the frame.

“Yeah, well that’s not what I was expecting!” Kageyama groans, breath hitting the speaker in a crinkly rush. His breath is all that filters through the phone for a few moments. Shouyou bites his lip. A sinking feeling pools in his veins, and he can feel himself finally getting soft. He should really be less impulsive, sometimes.

“I’m sorry,” Shouyou whispers. “I know sex stuff makes you uncomfortable...” He trails off, not wanting to get into the tangled mess that are his emotions.

“When did I ever say that?” Kageyama asks, tone inscrutable.

Shouyou huffs out a breath, lips forming a pout. His grip tightens around the phone. “You didn’t. It’s just obvious.”

He can hear the furrow in Kageyama’s eyebrows when he says, “How?”

Shouyou groans, covering his face with his hand. He doesn’t want to talk about this. But he also dug this hole himself, and if he’s already here, he might as well keep going. “Literally every time we’re making out, you stop it from going past first base.”

A low, disgruntled noise rumbles in the back of Kageyama’s throat. “...So you noticed that.”

“Of course I noticed!” Shouyou feels tears pricking at the edge of his eyes. He’s been annoyed that Kageyama doesn’t want to have sex and then been annoyed at himself for being annoyed; this pattern’s been swirling around his head for weeks. Maybe it was all getting to him more than he’d like to admit. He sucks in a stuttering breath, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. How can a heart beat so fast when it also feels like it’s being crushed? Maybe he’ll Google it later.

Kageyama sighs, a crackle of static ringing in Shouyou’s ear. A few more beats of silence pass, and Shouyou curls his legs into his chest, fully soft now. He’s itching all over from the lack of release—the super sexy climax he was surely about to have with fantasy Kageyama lost to the wind.

Shouyou is two seconds away from chucking his phone across the room when Kageyama finally says, “It’s not that I don’t want to.”

Shouyou is going to scream. “Then why _won’t_ you?” His voice comes out whiny instead, which is definitely worse.

Kageyama only takes one breath in and out this time before replying, “I guess I’m just...” Shouyou’s grip on his phone tightens. “Scared.”

His hold instantly slackens. An odd feeling bubbles up in the pit of his stomach. “Why?” He smacks himself in the forehead immediately after the words come out. _Absolutely tactless_.

“Because I’ve never done it before!” Kageyama says, clearly irritated.

“Neither have I, dummy!” Shouyou retorts, toes curling in frustration. “Honestly, that just makes me more curio—”

“No, dumbass, like _any of it._ ”

Shouyou’s eyebrows crease in confusion. There’s definitely something he’s missing here. “Explain!”

Kageyama sighs for what feels like the hundredth time. Shouyou squashes the twinge of irritation that swells up at the noise—they’re maybe getting somewhere, he needs to calm down before he says shit again.

“I’ve never felt... the way I do about you about anyone else,” Kageyama says. Shouyou’s about to eat his phone—neither has he!—when Kageyama continues, “Obviously the emotional thing is new, but it’s more than that.”

Shouyou’s head starts spinning. When’s the last time he breathed? He inhales, trying to clear the fog. It only half works. “How so?”

Shouyou hears Kageyama shift on his bed, the springs squeaking under his weight. “I’ve never, like... felt _turned on_ by anything, really. Like, kids since middle school have talked about porn and boobs and whatever, and it’s always just been so unappealing to me.” Kageyama pauses. Shouyou imagines his brows knitting even deeper. “And even when I realized that maybe that’s because it was about girls, I tried... looking for stuff online. Not about girls.” Shouyou flushes at the implication. He bets Kageyama is doing the same.

“But two minutes of that, and I felt nothing either.” Kageyama swallows, the noise audible even through the phone. “I’ve gone through the past few years just kinda assuming it wasn’t for me. Maybe volleyball took up so much of my time that there was no room left for, like, feeling... that way.” 

Shouyou bites back a chuckle—having a brain full of nearly only volleyball thoughts certainly hasn’t stopped _him_ from experiencing otherwise.

“And honestly, even when I liked you _before_ we were dating, I didn’t feel it that much. Maybe once every month or so, but I’d just kinda. Ignore it. Till it went away.” A snort escapes Shouyou, and he slaps his hand over his mouth. Kageyama just had hard ons and... _avoided_ doing anything about them? Shouyou thinks he’d die in his position. What a strong man.

Kageyama clicks his tongue. “Stop laughing, dumbass!” 

“I’m not laughing at you!” Shouyou says. “I’m just genuinely impressed by your... willpower.”

Kageyama blows a raspberry. “Well, don’t be. Because ever since we started dating...” Kageyama trails off, and Shouyou pouts, his patience thinning. Finish the sentence, geez!

“Uh-huuuuuh,” Shouyou drawls, voice pitching up at the end. 

“Let’s just say I don’t have that kind of self-control anymore.”

Shouyou’s eyebrows shoot up at the implication. 

"So, you're saying you get off now-a-days," he concludes for him. "Nice, Kageyama!" Shouyou teases, in a tone like he just got set a really clean ball. 

"Shut up, dumbass, my God," Kageyama says, exasperated. "But yes. I do. That."

"A lot?" Shouyou knows he should probably be directing the conversation in a more "explore-Kageyama's-anxieties" way, but he'll get back to that soon. Now that he knows Kageyama's lack of sexual attraction isn't _actually_ that, he's just curious. His chest feels a lot lighter, too.

"...Enough," Kageyama answers.

Shouyou whines, mouth twisting into a pout. "How oftennnnn?"

"Ugh, like, twice a week? Maybe three times? Can you stop talking now?" The blush on Kageyama's face right now must be priceless; Shouyou's sad he can't see it.

His eyes roll back into his head. "I'm not trying to invalidate your accomplishments or anything, but you realize I normally do this like every da—"

" _Yes_ , dumbass, I _know,_ " Kageyama hisses. "Not all of us have out-of-control impulses like you."

"Hey!" Shouyou protests. "I went _four days straight_ this week without doing it." He thought about it once or twice (a day), but he just wasn't inspired. It was a Kageyama-less misery-induced dry spell, probably.

"Congrats."

Shouyou's heart squeezes—irritated yet fond. Stupid-yama and their stupid banter that makes him _emotional_. 

"Okay, so if you're doing it more now, why won't you do it with me? _To_ me?" Shouyou asks, shoving his gooey thoughts to the side. "You realize I wanna do it to _you,_ too, right?"

Kageyama lets out a huff, groaning. "I know, you're really not subtle about it."

Shouyou glares into empty space. "Hey, I've always backed off."

Kageyama hums, an affirmative note. "You have." He pauses a beat, then says, "Thank you." 

A wave of heat floods Shouyou's cheeks. "Y-You're welcome."

"Yeah, but again, it's not that I don't _want_ to, it's just,” Kageyama pauses, huffing out a breath, “very new to me. And I..." the speaker crackles, as though Kageyama's shifting around. Shouyou waits for him to finish his sentence, but nothing comes through the line.

"You...?" Shouyou prompts, lightly.

Kageyama sighs harshly. "I don't really have experience or know what I'm doing." His sentence ends awkwardly, as though there's an "and", but he cut himself off before he said it. Shouyou hums, the gears turning in his head. What’s Kageyama overthinking this time? Shouyou racks his brain for an answer as he crawls to the top of the bed, pulling back the covers. (His ass was getting cold, okay?). A lightbulb goes off as he's tucking himself in. 

"And you're worried because you think I know more than you," Shouyou says, cheek flopping onto the pillow.

No response.

So, he's definitely right.

Shouyou sighs, covering his face with his hand. "Kageyama, I know that like half of our relationship is built on competition, but I don't expect you to be, like, a genius at this like you are with volleyball." And as he said earlier, it's not like Shouyou knows what he's doing either.

"I _get_ that," Kageyama says, frustration bleeding into his voice. "Doesn't mean the feeling just... goes away, though."

Shouyou nods, humming in agreement. "Yeah, I know. But just know that it's your own expectations of yourself holding you back. I'm literally down to try anything anytime." Shouyou pauses, considering. "Okay, maybe not anytime, like at school or something—though, IDK, maybe that'd be kinda hot— _anyways_ , you get my drift. But also if you _don't_ wanna do stuff for a while, I get that, too." Shouyou wants Kageyama to go at his own pace, but not for dumb reasons like feeling sexually inexperienced or inadequate. Kageyama could probably literally just squeeze his dick once and he'd come all over his hand—not that he'll ever tell him that.

"Okay," Kageyama says. The slight static of the speaker is the only noise for a few seconds. Shouyou realizes another thing in the meantime.

"Also, no one's good at _anything_ the first time they try it. Remember first year? It took you a bunch of tries to get the freak toss to line up with my hand. And then the falling toss! It literally took you all of Tokyo training camp to get it 50% right." Shouyou pauses, grimacing. "And let's not even get into the _everything_ I’ve had to work on these past few years." 

"Yeah, let's not," Kageyama says, a teasing lilt to his voice.

"Shut up!" Shouyou chuckles against his will. "So, yeah. My point here is that you need to practice to get good at things. So even if our first thousand times doing stuff together sucks—which it _won't,_ because it's you—" And everything Kageyama does makes Shouyou go _crazy_ , but, again, he's not admitting that, "—then that's _fine_ because we'll get there. Together." Like they always have.

Shouyou's breathing hard by the end of his impromptu pep talk; he didn't realize how into it he got until it was over. The other end of the line is silent. Feeling twitchy, Shouyou switches his phone to his other hand and rolls over. He settles in, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. Then finally, Kageyama says, "Yeah. We will."

Shouyou woops, a grin forming on his face. "Sounds like a plan."

"It does."

Shouyou closes his eyes, a content warmth spreading through his veins. The heat wraps around his chest, slowly burning away one of the roots that was so crushingly wrapped around his heart. Breathing becomes much easier once it’s gone. 

"So," Kageyama says eventually, "are you still...?"

Shouyou rolls his eyes, even though they're closed. "Of course I'm not!" Boner-killer-yama. He smiles at the irony.

Shouyou’s response is met with silence. He opens his mouth to prod Kageyama when his voice finally filters through the speakers. "Do... do you want to keep going?" 

Shouyou's eyes fly open, his pulse skyrocketing at the suggestion. "What!" He chokes out on instinct. 

Kageyama exhales a ragged breath. "N-nevermind, dumbass!"

"No!" Shouyou yells, propping himself up on his arm. His blankets tumble from his shoulder, bunching up around his hip. "D-do you want to? Over the phone? I do! Really! I was just caught off guard."

Kageyama grumbles something indiscernible into the speaker.

"You're mumbling," Shouyou chides lightly.

" _I do!"_ Kageyama's voice explodes in his ear. He yanks the phone away from his face in surprise. "I think... it'll be a good place to start." Shouyou waits, but he doesn't elaborate.

"O-okay," Shouyou says, placing the phone back against his cheek. "Do you. Um. Know anything about phone sex?" Shouyou's read a couple things about it, but had never really considered it. He and Kageyama are attached at the hip most of the time, after all. But Shouyou is nothing if not willing to try new things. Besides, fantasy Kageyama's voice got him feeling _some kind of way_ earlier. Real Kageyama's voice directly in his ear while he climaxes... Blood pools in his gut at the mere thought.

"Um, no," Kageyama says. "But we just have to talk, right?"

Shouyou huffs, his mouth quirking in a half smile. " _'Just_ talk,' Kageyama-kun? You say that like you're good at it."

Kageyama makes a noise. "Shut it, dumbass. You were the one... thinking about me earlier. You, at least, have plenty to say."

Shouyou hums. "But you just told me to shut it."

Kageyama sighs, and Shouyou can hear his exasperation when he says, "Just. Talk."

"Gimme a second."

Shouyou shucks the rest of the sheets off of him and climbs to the end of the bed. He throws the covers flat over the mattress, then grabs the towel and lube before crawling back to rest his head on his pillow. "I'm gonna put you on speaker."

Shouyou doesn't wait to hear his response before bringing the phone before his face. The screen lights up and the artificial brightness sears his eyes. He's squinting as his gaze flicks around the screen, finally finding then tapping the speaker button. He reaches out and puts the towel on his drawer, keeping the bottle in his hand.

"Aren't your mom and sister home, dumbass?!" Kageyama's mildly staticy voice fills the empty air. 

"No, they're away for the weekend," Shouyou says. 

"Oh."

"Yeah," Shouyou huffs. "So, are you hard?"

"We _just_ started," Kageyama says, exasperated.

Shouyou frowns, even though Kageyama can't see him. "Well, I'm well on my way." Even without touching himself yet, he can feel his dick hardening each passing second. After that intense pre-phone call session, it's no wonder he's ready to go again so quickly. He uncaps the lube and runs a bit over his fingers—there's still some left over down there, but again: no such thing as too much. 

Finally, he reaches down and wraps a hand around himself. He groans, the noise catching in the back of his throat. Kageyama's breath stutters on the other end of the line.

"Mmm," Shouyou hums, stroking himself slowly. Kageyama's definitely breathing harder now, too. 

"Do you really want me to say what I was thinking earlier?" Shouyou asks, eyes closing. "I don't want you to, like, feel pressured to be the same in real life."

Kageyama clicks his tongue. "I'll be fine."

Shouyou grunts, half in approval, half because he's fully hard now and _wow_ , it feels good.

"I think I'll start somewhere different this time anyways," he says. In order to get really into the fingering fantasy, he'd probably want to _be_ fingering himself, and he's too tired to try again.

"You're sitting on the bed with me right now," he starts, "and my family's not home." Shouyou drags his hand up his dick slowly, breath hitching when his fingers wrap around his head. "W-we're, I don't know, watching a movie or something boring."

"Glad to know what to put on from now on to get you in the mood," Kageyama says blandly. 

"Shut up," he huffs. "Anyways, we're sitting here, shoulder to shoulder, and I turn my head towards you. You seem pretty bored by the movie, too." A puff of air rushes through the speaker—a short chuckle.

"But you're still looking at the screen," Shouyou continues, "so I cup your face with my hand and turn it towards me. You look a bit confused, but I kiss you a second later and you melt so easily against my mouth that I know this was a good decision." Shouyou's stomach churns with embarrassment at the words leaving his mouth—and he hasn't even gotten to the _gross_ parts yet—but Kageyama's breath is audibly picking up pace on the other end, so he's clearly doing _something_ right. 

"Our first kiss is really slow—languid," Shouyou remembers that vocab word from last week; it rolls off his tongue like water. He runs his thumb over his slit, and his hips jerk forward at the touch. "But each time we break away, the kisses get more intense. Soon enough, I've pushed you completely onto the bed, and I'm propped up over you—my hand is gripping your shoulder lightly and my thumb strokes over the end of your collarbone." Kageyama's breath catches, and Shouyou hears him bite back a groan. He normally would chastise him for holding back, but he supposes that he doesn't want to be heard through the walls. His own hand slides over himself in response, and Shouyou releases a stuttering breath of his own.

"I move to your ear and bite it lightly, b-because I know you like it."

A slap of skin against skin echoes through the phone—it's honestly a gross noise, but because Shouyou knows what it _means_ , he bucks into his hand harder, mirroring it. His head buzzes with static, clouding his focus. He releases himself and says, “Still have nothing to add, Kageyama-kun?” 

The jeer was meant to buy himself some time to calm down, but Kageyama soon replies, “No, you—you’re... just keep going.” Before Shouyou can snap at him for his rudeness, Kageyama continues, “You’re good. Talking right now’s—very difficult.” His voice cracks on the last word. Shouyou flushes at the praise, warmth blooming in his chest.

“O-okay,” he says. "I, uh, I start kissing down your neck, sucking lightly on your collar bone—" Kageyama moans, the noise filtering cleanly through the speakers. Shouyou's brain short circuits—the second moan he's ever pulled out of him so overwhelming that it interrupts the fantasy and he blurts out, "God, Kageyama, that was _really_ hot." Heat instantly warms his cheeks, and he brings his unoccupied hand to cover his face. Kageyama sucks in a breath, and Shouyou hears the springs of his bed shifting as he says, "O-oh." Shouyou laughs airly at his incoherent response— _too cute_.

"A-anyways," he continues, moving his free hand from his face to his chest. It's a bit of an awkward angle since his upper arm is pinned under his body, but Shouyou will make it work. "I move lower, kissing your shoulder, your chest—each pec—and you're _really_ worked up—I can f-feel the bulge in your shorts." His own fingertips follow this path, and his other twists upwards on his cock. Kageyama swears, his breath hitting the speaker in a harsh, crackled puff. Shouyou thumbs over a ball in response; his entire body shivers at the touch.

"I skim my fingers over your nipple and your entire body, like, jolts, and you make a sound that makes my head spin—" Kageyama cuts him off, making _just_ that noise, and Shouyou's skin lights up, ablaze with desire. "And I lean back down and lick it, and your hips jerk up and press against mine for just a second and _woah_." A little bit of grinding inevitably comes from making out, but this was generally the stage that Kageyama levelled off.

"For a second, I completely lose myself and sweep back up to kiss you on the lips so that we can line up like that _again._ " This tale has really gotten away from him—he's babbling out words before he can even process what they are. But Kageyama releases another groan, a bit muffled this time, and Shouyou fully tugs on his balls; the feeling runs straight to his aching cock. He's a lot closer than he'd like to be considering he's not even remotely done with this scenario, but oh well. Hopefully there's a next time—there’ll probably be a next time.

"And I rut up against you, and you moan into my mouth, and, oh my God," Shouyou tries to find the words to describe the imagined feeling, but his tongue feels like it's been twisted into knots. He brings his free hand up to lightly brush against his lips and breathes an airy sigh.

"Fuck—Hinata," Kageyama says, voice pinched. Shouyou's blood instantly rushes lower—hearing Kageyama say his name in _that_ tone is almost enough to pitch him over the edge. But he hangs on, squeezing his dick uncomfortably tight until the feeling subsides, the buzzing under his skin crackling wildly.

"I finally pull away—a-and move down the bed until my face is between your legs." Shouyou pauses a second, considering. "And I ask you if—if that's okay."

Kageyama grumbles, an embarrassed sound, before saying,"Yeah, dumbass, keep going."

Shouyou pouts—he was being _considerate_ —but Kageyama speaks up again, "Please." 

Shouyou's entire body lights up at the request and he nearly comes _again_ —only his sheer will power to _get to the best damn_ _part_ holding him back. He never thought much about kinks—everything he watched or read was pretty tame, which was all he needed to get off—but, damn, if he had to list one, at least he knows what it is now.

After he regains control of his breath and his brain no longer feels like pure static, he stutters out, "Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah, I'm, I'm going— _ngggh_."

"Good." Tingles run up Shouyou's spine.

"I pull your shorts to your knees and put my mouth on the outline of your d—" Shouyou's entire body lights up, this time in embarrassment. Oh, boy, is it a lot harder to say certain things out loud. Kageyama snickers over the phone, and a flicker of annoyance sparks in Shouyou's chest. He won't be laughing soon.

"I put my mouth on your cock through your shorts, and the fabric is so wet—I just sit there for a second and drink you all in." Kageyama pants, the sounds so unrestrained and needy that Shouyou nearly whines. He bites his lip to stop it from passing through. "I find the tip and wrap my lips around it and suck, just a little bit."

"Shit—" Kageyama says before moaning again. The sound is low and full, like it burst out from the back of his throat, and Shouyou starts stroking himself at an almost excruciatingly fast pace.

"Finally, I pull down your boxers and you spring completely free and before you can get used to the cold, I grab your base and— _ah_ —put your head into my mouth." Shouyou squeezes his own for good measure and his breath catches in his throat. Kageyama's breath mirrors his own—shallow and stuttery. Shouyou squeezes his eyes further shut, really trying to concentrate so that he can end this on a high note for both of them.

"I sink down lower until my lips meet my hand and I just _suck_ and you cry out and it's so _hot_ that I groan around your dick—" 

"Hinata, I-I'm gonna—" Kageyama hiccups, then continues. "I'm close."

Shouyou's almost there, too—his brain turning into that staticy yet mushy fog it does right before a climax. His limbs are tense, pulled taut like a string. He moves his other hand to wrap around himself, fucking into both of his hands now. His core and upper thighs _ache,_ but he’s too wrapped up in this fantasy and chasing his own release to care to stop the burn.

"I take my hand off and take more of you in me, as much as I can until your dick hits the back of my tongue, and from there, I suck _again_ and— _rnghh_ —you taste and feel so good that I reach between my legs and start touching myself because it's at the same time so much but not enough—"

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ," Kageyama pants into the phone, and then he moans—clear and loud and low—just as Shouyou is pressing a thumb over his slit. Shouyou feels a rush of electricity zip through his veins straight to his dick, and he comes—hard. He covers his head with a hand, and the warm liquid coats his entire palm, eventually seeping through his fingers as he keeps thrusting forward, riding out the high.

When the final shock has rolled through his body, Shouyou relaxes his brows and takes a deep breath. The other end of the line has gone nearly silent, small wisps of Kageyama's ragged breath barely audible. Shouyou feels like a slug—his limbs so heavy, he's surprised he hasn't fallen through the mattress. But the thought of washing his sheets tonight is unappealing enough that he pats around for the towel on the nightstand. Hand finally meeting the rough fabric, he wipes his fingers lazily as his brain reconfigures itself into full awareness. 

"Did you finish?" Shouyou croaks, the words harsh against the cultivated quiet. He cracks open his eyes, and the light of the moon greets him, washing his room in tints of pale blue.

"Y-yeah," Kageyama replies, his voice thick and sleepy, "but our fantasy-selves didn't." 

Shouyou huffs, a small smile forming on his lips. "Guess we'll have to see what happens next time... If you want to, that is."

Kageyama hums an approving note. "Yeah, I do... And I promise it’ll happen in real life soon...ish, at least."

Shouyou chuckles for real this time. "Okay. Take your time, though."

"After tonight, I don't know if I _want_ to wait any longer or not," Kageyama says immediately. Shouyou's eyebrows shoot up at the admission, a wave of heat burning his cheeks. Normal Kageyama would never divulge something like that so openly—the only thing stronger than his pride being his volleyball skills and his desire to eat. Maybe sexed-out Kageyama is more pliant than usual. Shouyou notes this for the future, fully eager to exploit it if true.

"Well, you'll be back on Saturday," Shouyou says. "And my family'll still be away. Come over?" He doesn't even care if Kageyama wants to do anything or not, he just wants to _see_ him so badly. Shouyou tells him such, testing his post-sex Softy-yama theory.

"Mmm," Kageyama hums. "I wanna see you, too."

Shouyou's heart squeezes, stomach flipping with joy. He knows logically that since they're dating, Kageyama has to be just as whipped as he is, but it's nice to hear it from his mouth sometimes. God, he doesn’t know how he’s gonna make it the next three days without seeing Kageyama. 

A light bulb goes off in his mind.

"Can we _please_ switch to video chat?” Shouyou blurts out. He sits up suddenly, body flooding with adrenaline. “Oh my god, why didn’t we do that from the beginning?"

Kageyama groans. "Absolutely not.”

“Why _noooot_?” Shouyou whines, purposely overstressing the words. Acting needy always annoys Kageyama, and Shouyou has found no greater joy in life than annoying Kageyama (other than volleyball, of course). Besides, he really does want to see his face. 

“I have to go to bed, and so do you,” Kageyama replies. “We both have early mornings tomorrow.” 

Shouyou’s nose scrunches. “Actually, _I_ don’t have the luxury of going to bed early, unlike King Kageyama. A week of excused absences _and_ homework?” A disgruntled noise rumbles at the back of his throat. “Literally so unfair. But you’ll fall behind in lessons, and I can laugh at you as you try to catch up, at least.” 

“Shut up,” Kageyama snaps back. “Yachi-san already agreed to help me with school stuff next week. Not everyone is a bully like you.” Shouyou squawks, indignant. 

“And besides,” Kageyama continues, ignoring Shouyou’s ire, “shouldn’t you be thinking about yourself? You’re the scrub who hasn’t done his work for tomorrow yet. Have fun suffering from sleep deprivation at morning practice.”

“Hey!” Shouyou retorts. “I’ll have you know that I still have—” he flips his phone towards him to check the time, “—an hour until I have to be asleep to still get eight hours. That’s plenty of time to get my math and English homework done.” 

“If you want a 50% on both assignments, I guess,” Kageyama says, voice tinged with mirth.

Shouyou’s face twists in annoyance. “Well, if I’m gonna fail anyways, you should call me so I can see your face for the last time before Murata-sensei chews me out so hard again that I finally wither into nothingness.” He high fives himself internally for the smooth transition back on topic.

Kageyama clicks his tongue. “Dramatic.”

“ _Pleeeease_ ,” Shouyou draws out, switching into his whiny voice again. He even makes the usual pleading eyes and purses his lips a little, just to get into character better. Because no matter how much Kageyama says he’s annoyed by this side of Shouyou, Shouyou knows it _works_. 

Kageyama sighs, a thread of fondness mixed in with the exasperation. “Stop making the face I know you’re making right now, and I’ll...” He pauses, seemingly lost as to what to offer, “send you a picture of myself, okay? Then go do your work, dumbass.” 

Shouyou’s face breaks into a grin; not an 100% victory, but he’ll take it. He flops back down onto his back, head sinking into his pillow. “Okaaaay.”

Shouyou can picture Kageyama shaking his head in the short pause that follows. Soon enough, he says, “Night, Hinata.” 

Shouyou’s stomach feels like it’s melted into goo when he replies, “G’nite, Kageyama!” The feeling travels up into his veins as the line cuts out, warming his skin. Dropping his phone next to his head, Shouyou chuckles a beat, thinking about the selfie to come. Does Kageyama even know the word “selfie”? Has he ever even taken one? Oh my god, what if he sends a mirror selfie because he doesn’t realize that his phone has a front facing camera. 

Shouyou laughs a bit more as he pushes his covers back and swings his legs out of bed. Snatching up the come-smattered towel, he skips off to the bathroom in order to clean himself up better and get ready for bed. He’ll wake up early tomorrow for homework; the emotional rollercoaster of today has left him too tired to use his higher cognitive functions (not that he’s great at that even at full energy, anyways). 

As Shouyou brushes his teeth, he realizes that his chest isn’t aching anymore. In fact, it’s like the weight’s been removed, the feeling taking its place more akin to the high of making a really good receive or cooking a really kickass dinner. But even that’s not quite it—it’s less jagged excitement and thrill, more round and light and glowing. Spitting out the excess toothpaste into the sink, Shouyou finally puts a word to it.

He feels _content_. 

His nose unwittingly scrunches at the realization. He’s becoming _soft_. Because of _Kageyama_. Gross. 

Setting an alarm for bright and early tomorrow, Shouyou tucks himself under his covers for the last time that night. As he’s doing the last minute rounds on all his social media, a text from Kageyama pops up at the top of the screen. A shock of excitement runs up Shouyou’s spine as he clicks on the message. At the sight that greets him, his eyes nearly bug out of his head.

Kageyama is in bed, a pillow tucked behind his neck and back (so he did figure out the front facing camera!). Fly away hairs stick up in all directions around his scalp, and his cheeks are dusted in a light pink. The harsh light of the flash is causing him to squint slightly, with a quintessential pout gracing his features. 

**Kageyama Tobio🏐** [9:04 PM]

> If you reply to this in any way, shape, or form, I’m blocking your number.

Shouyou huffs out a laugh at the text, but his eyes are immediately drawn back to the photo. A heat starts to coil low in his belly, but he’s too exhausted to stoke that fire. Instead, he saves the photo and clicks off his phone—he can thirst over it all he wants tomorrow. Flipping onto his side, Shouyou curls his legs into his chest and shuts his eyes. The content feeling from earlier has only magnified now, each pump of his heart sending flickers of joy through his veins. 

He’s not so naive to think that the crushing weight from earlier is gone forever—his sexual frustration was only one suitcase in a pile of baggage, after all. Unfortunately, all his problems can’t be resolved with one phone call (one... really sexy phone call). If tomorrow comes and he’s back to brooding, fine. But maybe, just that bit of relief will help tip the scales back in his favor; he’ll be able to juggle all the balls now that the most volatile one has been plucked from his stack.

Ack, he’s back to stupid metaphors.

Shouyou smiles into his pillow. A warm breath leaves his nose, his muscles relaxing in tandem. No point in overthinking things he can’t control. Tomorrow will come with tomorrow’s feelings. It’s better to focus on the present. Another heartbeat spreads content tingles down his limbs. 

Shouyou switches his focus to the buoyant feeling in his chest and the sound of his breath. Time passes—a handful of seconds, a number of minutes, Shouyou doesn’t know. 

_"As long as I'm here, you're invincible!"_ The declaration rings through his head unexpectedly, the way thoughts are wont to do in that blurry space between reality and dreams.

Shouyou smiles, finding it rather apt.

Because right now—close to Kageyama in ways neither of them could have imagined all those years ago—he does feel pretty damn invincible.

**Author's Note:**

> Kagehina big bang discord was talking about how in canon hinata never addresses the Now (is always looking towards the future, the "top") b/c there's a lot of feelings of inferiority/frustration about the Now, and my horny brain said "examine this, but make it porn" and here is the result..!! I hope u enjoyed!! Please leave a comment and/or a kudos if you did, they make my day :}
> 
> I actually wrote this all in September but with the reveal of TIME SKIP KAGEHINA LONG DISTANCE PHONE CALLS???, I was overcome with the desire to finally tighten it up & post it. Furudate feeding all our headcanons 😭😭💕
> 
> Hit me up on [ Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/rinpanna) for haikyuu brain rot!! Currently I'm actually in a bit of an ats*mu phase 🤢 so I apologize in advance for that. Also, please give this fic a [ retweet](https://twitter.com/rinpanna/status/1325929230602039301?s=20) if you're so inclined :D thanks again, friends, and see u next fic!!


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